And Can You Imagine All This For Us.

After surviving the unhoused ginger racist themed rants of yesterday’s clickety clackety carriage ride to the westside I arrived to work with absolutely nothing to do. And I frankly do mean nothing. Since it was raining out and this is Los Angeles people decided to stay home for the day, and people in this instance must have included every able bodied woman, man and child in IT because once I failed to connect to the VPN I stayed unconnected to the VPN  for the next five hours.

I surfed the internet, cruised porn, went to lunch and cruised porn again before they actually got me connected to my actual work flow which is so typical of Los Angeles. A little bit of rain spoils everything, or in this case enables it. I cruised porn and craigslist so long I actually managed to score a hook-up. Actually I scored a hook-up by simply sending a text message to one of my regular hood thugs, but cruising porn really got me into the mood for some regular hood thug.

So I will be taking off work early this afternoon to get myself ready for some hard earned hood thug therapy before I jet off tomorrow to the land of jello-molds and Jeep Hybrids. Being able to coordinate such a thing within something not much larger than a 24 hour window takes millennium style texting skills, but I did and I do.

This morning was actually quite a catastrophe. I got all the way to the bus stop before I realized that I had forgotten everything that makes life worth living in the office (my iPhone charger) so I immediately walked all the way back to my pad to retrieve it, and I barely made it back to the stop in time to catch a clickety clackety carriage that got me to work on time. Under normal circumstances I would just be stewing in my own juices over such a calamity, but having genuine hood thug to look forward to only proves that hook ups rub out the hang ups.